


Broken Pieces

by SJ_Sixx



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SJ_Sixx/pseuds/SJ_Sixx
Summary: Easy to break. But not as easy to fix





	Broken Pieces

Too hopeful, too innocent, too curious... easy to tear apart, easy to dig the claws into, easy to leave in pieces on the cold stone pavement.

Heartbreak can change a person, and the team had to watch as the girl they knew and cared for was broken down like a rock and left in pebbles all over the floor.

It had started out as a simple name. Pathetic, if memory served them correct. She had come in that day and asked, quite causally, if they thought she was pathetic. This was, of course, met with protests of the sort, questions of where the idea had arisen, who had said things because of course she wasn't pathetic, she was one of the most strong-willed people they knew. She had not confirmed the source of origin, but Kent had a uneasy feeling about it.

It had then moved to bruises she claimed were from being clumsy, all said with a cheeky smile. Pain that she put down to the illness, with less of a chirp to her tone. Burns that she dismissed as nothing. Thinning hair because of "medication and the damned side effects".

But that hadn't been what worried them. They noticed the forced smiles, the cynical remarks about herself, the distinct lack of sarcastic responses that she would've dished out at least fifteen times a day. The quiet voice, the tremor whenever Chandler raised his voice and the shaking when Miles argued back.

They tried to extract the truth, but she kept it locked up tight in her heart.

Too tight, maybe.

"Domestic?"  
"In progress, lets move!"  
Kent sat in the same car as Miles and Chandler, as they raced to the flats. As they arrived, ambulance staff were there, ready, as were the SWAT.  
"Ready?"  
The screams and sobs inside the flat made Kent's stomach turn, and as the team burst the door down, yelling, he cautiously followed in, only for the colour to leave him face.  
The team had the man wrestled to the ground, handcuffed - alcohol reeked from him, and he could see broken bottles all over, pills crushed into the carpet and needles snapped, the jagged edges gleaming very slightly. But huddled in the corner, tears streaming and muffled sobs echoing in his ears forever more, blood smeared, dripping, there she was.  
"Oh, my, God." He rushed over, falling to his knees next to her, carefully pulling her into his arms, rocking her, holding her close, planting kisses over her forehead, not caring for the dried blood, and she clung to his suit, hiding her face in the shirt, weeping.

The cuts would heal, the scars would fade, and the therapist would talk. But nothing could make her return. She was a shell of her former self, doing her work, robotic and uncaring. She took her meds, she worked, she went home and slept. She didn't come out like she did before, there were no sarcastic replies, just the bare, cold truth.

"You ok?"  
It had been two months since the incident.  
"Yeah."  
"Sure?"  
"Yeah."  
Kent took a seat on her desk. It was late, everyone else had gone home, even Chandler. But she was there, working as always.  
"I don't think you are."  
"What gives you that impression?"  
"Many things. But I have a couple of questions."  
"Go ahead."  
"How long was he hurting you for?"  
She paused, thinking, before replying, "couple of months. Next question?"  
"Was it just physical or....?"  
"No. There was emotional, and, and..."  
For the first time since the incident, Kent saw a single tear slip down her cheek, "sexual."  
"Yeah'" she sighed.  
"We're worried. I'm worried," Kent murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder, "we miss the old you."  
She looked at him, and for the first time in a while, he saw a flicker of light behind those eyes, like a lighting bolt had just flashed across the clouds.  
"I didn't think anyone would," she whispered.  
"Did, he say that?"  
"Yeah..."  
"He was lying. And I don't know what else was said, but it was all lies. We all care about you, we were worried, we still are..."   
"H-He said, no one else could ever love me."  
Kent paused for a second, before hopping off her desk, helping her stand, and staring straight at the face, the face that used to be full of wonder and laughter, and replied, "he was lying. I love you."  
She blinked a couple of times, before she moved forward, wrapping her arms round Kent's waist and holding on, and started to cry. And Kent held her, he rocked her slightly, swaying from side to side, rubbing her back, kissing the top of her head.  
"I love you, so, so much. It was killing me, seeing what was happening to you. I know people think I like Chandler, but he's a mentor. With all I have, I love you, and you alone."  
She pulled back, and for the first time in two months, a genuine smile flittered across her features, and he saw the light shining once again in her eyes.  
"I love you too, Emerson."

It was the next day, Chandler was trying to cram all the information onto one board, the team gathered round. Kent sat next to her, holding her hand and stroking the skin with his thumb.  
"C'mon, we haven't got all day," scoffed Miles.  
"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't think it's all going to fit!" Retorted Chandler.  
And before Miles could respond, a small voice chimed from the back as it had once before,  
"That's what she said,"  
She sat there with a grin, head leaning against Kent's shoulder, as the office burst into raucous applause. Kent smiled, kissing the top of her head, before wrapping his arm round her, holding her tight.


End file.
